


lord have mercy (on my next thirty years)

by amosanguis



Series: soul-bond/soulmates AUs [2]
Category: NCIS: Los Angeles
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Clocks, Countdowns Above Your Head, Established Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Love, M/M, Non-Linear Narrative, Soulmates, abuse of parentheses, short scenes, title from a country song
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-28
Updated: 2014-10-28
Packaged: 2018-02-23 01:26:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2528930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amosanguis/pseuds/amosanguis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Before G rounded the corner, Sam looked back just as G’s Clock went from <i>43:05:10:06:58:01</i> to <i>00:00:00:00:16:56.</i>  Sam screamed and the sound of it was lost on the echo of gunfire.</p>
            </blockquote>





	lord have mercy (on my next thirty years)

**Author's Note:**

> \--Title is from "My Next Thirty Years" by Tim McGraw  
> \--Clock display is: years:months:days:hours:minutes:seconds

-z-

 

Before G rounded the corner, Sam looked back just as G’s Clock went from _43:05:10:06:58:01_ to  _00:00:00:00:16:56_.

Sam screamed and the sound of it was lost on the echo of gunfire.

 

-x-

 

Everyone had a Clock – time displayed was based on immediate circumstances and current health.  Any sudden shifts in the numbers above someone’s head, and they went to the hospital or called 9-1-1.

(Provided a friend or someone noticed the shift and told them – a person can’t see their own Time and it’s taboo to ask after it.

Information about Clocks can only be volunteered, never sought.)

 

-x-

 

Sixteen minutes.

Sam had sixteen minutes to–

Sam had _fifteen_ minutes to try to stop the bleeding.

“Stay with me, G,” Sam shouted, “stay with me!” His blood-slick fingers sliding across the screen of his phone as he tried to call for an ambulance.

Fourteen minutes.

 

-x-

 

It was rare, but sometimes it happened – sometimes, people’s Clocks would sync up.  It was the plot of every romance movie, book, play, and song out there.

“I think it’s beautiful,” Sam says, smiling over his computer.

“I think it’s dangerous,” G says, voice dry as he picks at the edges of his desk.  “Who wants to be bonded like that?  If you were supposed to know when you were going to die, you’d be allowed to look at your own Clock.”

“So then don’t look,” Kensi says, shrugging her shoulder as she picks up a tazer, quirks an eyebrow at Sam.

He nods and stands.  “If it happens, G,” Sam says over his shoulder, “I promise I won’t tell you.”

G looks up, meets Sam’s eyes – looking uncharacteristically serious.

“Promise me,” he says.

Sam stops, wonders if he should push for a reason behind this.  He wants to go up to G, wants to smooth the tension from his forehead with a kiss.  He only _just_ manages to restrain himself.

“Okay,” he finally says.

(He’ll ask later.)

(He forgets.)

 

-x-

 

Twelve minutes left and the ambulance roars onto the street.

( _G's Clock_   _hadn’t changed until he turned the corner_ , Sam thinks, _I could have stopped this.  I could have **stopped** this._ )

Eleven minutes and Sam’s being pulled away by the paramedics.

 

-x-

 

“Well, look at that,” Hetty says, her eyes darting between Sam and G and a smirk playing on her lips.

“What?” G asks, wary.

“Congratulations,” she says.

“For what?” Sam asks, moving away from the coffee maker and towards his desk.

“I’m sure you’ll figure it out,” she says, pausing to see if they do just that.

“What do you think she means?” Sam asks as he settles into his desk.  He’s met with silence and he turns and finds G staring at him.  Well, at the space above his head.  Before he can snap at G for being rude – G is rushing to his feet.

“Hospital!” he’s shouts.  “We need to get you to the hospital!”

“Mr. Callen,” Hetty’s voice is quick and cutting and it freezes G in place.

“But, he—”

“—is _fine_ ,” she interrupts.

Then Sam figures it out, he grabs G by the back of the neck and kisses him there in the middle of OSP.

(“You lost six years,” G tells Sam later that night. “ _Six_.”

“I wouldn’t want them without you anyway,” Sam says, pressing a kiss to the corner of G’s mouth. “They wouldn’t do me any good.”

G tries to argue but Sam shuts him up with a kiss.)

 

-x-

 

Ten minutes left and Sam feels a tightness in his chest that he can’t breathe around.

Nine minutes and he’s collapsed on the sidewalk, in a puddle of G’s blood as G is loaded into one ambulance and Sam's loaded into the second (he’s not sure when the second one came, but the EMTs' eyes are darting between his face and his Clock and they’re looking panicked).

He feels G’s blood drying on his hands, making his shirt stick to his chest.

Five minutes left and Sam’s eyes slip closed.

 

-

 

(At _00:00:00:00:01:02_ G’s and Sam’s heartbeats level out.)

 

-

 

Sam’s slow to wake, but the first thing he sees as his head lolls to the side is G.  G, attached to all kinds of machinery and tubes, but still _G_.

Sam looks up, watches as the Clock’s numbers flicker and change before his eyes slip closed again.

 

-

 

It takes a few days, but the Clock eventually settles; and Sam grins as he reads it.

 _49:11:20:15:02:06_.

(When G wakes up, Sam grabs his hand and says, "We got our six years back.")

 

-z-

 

End.


End file.
